


Save your eyes for sight

by AccidentalAvenger



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger
Summary: There's the old adage 'never look a gift horse in the mouth' - well, in this case, in the eye. But for Juno Steel, that's not quite true. In fact, Detective Steel would be wise to adhere to the proverb 'there's no such thing as a free lunch' and in this case, the lunch provided by Mayor Ramses O'Flaherty may cost more than he'd be willing to pay. But all is fair in love, war, and Hyperion City.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written after 2.04 Juno Steel and the Lesson Learned (Part One)
> 
> Inspired by a conversation had on the podcast enthusiast chat group!

"You lonely, honey?" the woman asked with a sweet smile. She stood right in front of Juno, hands on hips and head tilted coquettishly. Juno swore internally, forcing a strained smile in response.  
"Me? No. I'm fine," he lied, "Not lonely at all."  
The woman in front of him raised a perfectly painted eyebrow. "You sure?" She frowned slightly, taking in the detective's ragged appearance. "You look... tired. Sad. A night of good company could do you some good, sweetheart. And trust me; me and my friends are the best company you can possibly have."  
"I'm sure they are. It's just not what I'm really looking for right now."  
The woman laughed, flicking her blue hair back. "That's not a problem, hun! We got anything you want. Girls, boys, neither! All shapes and sizes. And everyone's clean as can be. Nothing but quality at mine."

She gestured towards a door on her left with a well-manicured hand. Juno couldn't help but automatically follow the gesture and he briefly saw an innocuous doorway with a sign advertising 'Mabel's meditation and relaxation sessions' before tearing his eyes away, cursing himself. He'd put a lot of people in danger with that glance. 

"I'm good. I'm not looking for anyone at the moment, thanks," Juno insisted. The woman shrugged.  
"Sure thing. But a handsome lady like you," she gave him an appreciative once-over, "is always welcome here. Here's our card." 

She held out a slip of paper and Juno grabbed it without even looking down. He shoved it into a pocket, promising internally to toss it in the nearest bin as soon as he was out of sight. He wasn't a fan of the Hyperion City ladies and gents of the night but he'd run into several on jobs over the years and none of them were bad people. Certainly, none of them needed to be subject to one of Ramses' 'moral cleanups.' Few people did. 

"Look," he said gently, and the woman blinked at him, "Rumour is there's some City Hall sweeps going through this area pretty soon. I'd recommend getting out for the next week or so. Let people know."  
The woman frowned, running a hand through her hair. "One of the new mayor's clean up crews? Christ. Thanks for letting me know. I'll see what I can do." She paused. "God, this is a mess. Just tryin' to make a goddamn living."

Juno couldn't agree more.

Juno’s eye - no, Ramses O'Flaherty's eye - had been a gift when Juno had first had it installed. It's had given him a new lease on life, made his job easier than ever. The first week had been hell, but he'd be warned about headaches and dizziness as his mind adjusted to having a new information feed. But then that had subsided and in its place, it had left a more efficient Juno Steel. His aim had gone back to perfect and the recording meant that he could review what he'd seen whenever he wanted. It was perfect. 

Then it got strange. Ramses O’Flaherty was elected mayor of Hyperion City in a landslide victory. With a few blinks, Juno could get any information he wanted on anyone, right before his eyes. When he'd mentioned that it seemed like an invasion of privacy to O'Flaherty, the old man had just laughed and given him some spiel about how there were few he'd trust with people's secrets, but he knew Juno had the city’s best interests at heart. And Juno had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. 

Then O’Flaherty had begun to clean up the city for real. It had started small, graffiti and homeless people on the streets begging to dwindle. It had all been positive, or so Juno thought. But rather than homeless shelters, the new mayor built prisons, much worse than Fortezza or even Hoosegow, and expanded the list of what could get you tossed in them. Juno couldn't help but notice how orderly his usual routes became, and how the criminals he ran into had a strange habit of disappearing into one of the new prisons once he'd finished his case. But he'd ignored it. After all, Hyperion City was getting better, getting safer. 

Then there had been raids in Old Town, and Juno had spotted the Piranha among mayor’s ‘clean-up crews.’ Actually, he'd recognised quite a few hired thugs from over the years, busy at work dragging innocent people out of their homes. Things had fallen into place then. ‘Cleaning up the city’ didn't just mean criminals. It meant anyone who didn't fit into Ramses’ vision of Hyperion City. Shops and homes were raided, curfews set and patrols sent out to pick up anyone who acted out. 

Juno had his suspicions confirmed when Ramses dropped him a line, asking if his friend Mick - who just happened to be crashing on Juno’s couch after his short-lived career as a prison guard - needed a job working for the City government. Ramses was watching what Juno saw. Juno Steel was literally Ramses O'Flaherty's eyes in the streets. The only issue was that Ramses O’Flaherty wasn't even pretending he was working for the people on those streets anymore. 

Juno knew he couldn't remove the cybernetic eye without killing himself, and wearing an eyepatch would let O'Flaherty know that he knew. So he sent Rita home, not wanting Ramses to figure out how smart she was, with instructions to find out how to block transmissions to and from his eye. He'd cut contact with some old friends and old enemies; Valles Vicky’s kid had just turned three and even the Kanagawas didn't deserve what was rumoured to happen inside the ‘rehabilitation facilities’ - well, Cassandra didn't anyway. 

And that had left Juno alone. His friends were safe but he was alone. He did his job and otherwise kept his eyes the ground when he wasn't, hoping that he wouldn't see some poor kid trying to sell tablets on his way home. Juno learnt not to look at the things in his periphery, to keep his eyes locked on the ground which was safe, nondescript. The last thing Juno Steel wanted was to put more pain and loss into the world.

Ramses O’Flaherty was mayor, and he was cruel, and he was watching. And Juno knew. That was the only thing that he had left now.


	2. Chapter 2

Juno’s carefully constructed bubble came crashing down around him as he sat in one of Hyperion City’s more low-budget coffee chains. He'd been staring out at the pavement in front of him, trying not to look at the increasingly drunk teenagers on a nearby bench. He couldn't risk seeing their faces. At one point one of them had stumbled dangerously close to the patch of Tarmac Juno was glaring at. He quickly glanced away, scanning the nearby shops and praying the glimpse he caught wasn't enough to identify the kid and get him punished for drunk and disorderly behaviour. 

That's when he spotted Peter Nureyev. He saw the man as he turned away from a vendor, laughing and looking towards the square where Juno sat. Juno tore his eyes away as quickly as he could without causing suspicion. But it was too late. In the second that he'd spotted Nureyev, in the moments it had taken for Juno to process what he was seeing, Nureyev had locked eyes with him and the wide, artificial smile had slipped from his face. 

It hurt Juno, but as he glared at his coffee as if it was the reason for every piece of shadow in his life, he begged whatever Fate, God or whatever power that ran the universe that Nureyev hated him. Juno had never believed in a god but he prayed that Nureyev would turn around, taking with him all the things snatched from various market stalls and that Juno would never see him again. Juno felt like he was ripping his own organs out as he tried to will more distance between them, tried to pretend that a sneer had begun to form rather than the hopeful expression he had seen for a millisecond. 

Of course, it didn't work. Peter Nureyev wasn't one to follow anyone's will, not even the universe’s, let alone Juno Steel’s. 

“Juno.”

Even after all those months apart, Nureyev's voice still made Juno shiver slightly. He felt a tentative hand touch his shoulder and it felt like every worry he had carried with him was brushed off his shoulders, just for a moment. Then they came crashing down again, twice as heavy as reality kicked back in and Juno realised the danger that he was putting Nureyev in. 

He stared fixedly at the metal table next to him, listening to the faint rustle of Nureyev’s coat as he hovered beside him. 

“Juno?” Nureyev repeated, his tone more strained, more uncertain, than before. The vision natural eye began to blur ever so slightly and Juno felt overwhelmingly relieved that his encounter with Miasma had managed to wreck his tear ducts. He didn't want Ramses O'Flaherty to suspect anything. 

There was a long pause and Juno felt painfully aware of everything around him. Every rustle, every flicker in his peripheral vision only added tension to the line of his shoulders and he clenched the cardboard cup in front of him tightly. When Nureyev spoke again, the hurt and anger began to creep into the edges of his voice. 

“I must say, I didn't think you would be this childish. You might not be as happy to see me as I am to see you, but you could at least acknowledge me.” 

In the periphery of his vision of his natural eye, Juno saw Nureyev’s hand begin to move towards him as if to take his hand or pull Juno toward him. In a panic Juno clamped his hand over Nureyev’s wrist, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from the main as he shoved him out of the way. 

“You can't,” he said through gritted teeth, his hands shaking as he struggled to quell the panic coursing within him.   
“Juno, please.” Nureyev’s voice sounded genuinely pained. The only time Juno had heard him sound that lost, that desperate, before had been when they were separated by a door in Miasma’s cavern, waiting as a bomb ticked its way down to 0. It wasn't a memory that Juno particularly wanted to think about. 

“I don't understand, I understand if you're angry but please- please Juno, look at me. Talk to me.”  
Juno shook his head, trying to blink back tears in the eye that still worked, struggling to find words to explain everything that needed to be explained, without all the complicated feelings roiling in his gut spilling out in a rush.   
“I can't. My eye-” he choked off, his fingers still encircling Nureyev’s wrist. The other man was strangely silent. 

Finally, he spoke and Juno felt him shifting back, further away from Juno as he did. A weight lifted itself from his shoulders and the panic began to subside, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.  
“The cybernetic one?” Nureyev asked, his voice low, “Is something wrong with it?”  
“Yeah,” Juno admitted, digging his nails into the black metal of the table he was almost boring a hole into with the intensity of his gaze, “We're being watched.” 

“By who?” There was an obvious twist of anger to Nureyev’s voice and Juno flinched slightly, expecting the thief to get up and walk away at any moment. There was a pause and then Nureyev’s voice came again, gentler but pained, “Juno, who did this to you?” 

Juno closed his eyes before shaking his head slightly. “We can't talk. Not out here. Ears are everywhere.”  
There was a long pause before Nureyev solute pointed out, “We aren't that far from your apartment if I remember correctly.” He did of course. “I assume it's safe to talk there. Unless you don't- want me..” 

He trailed off as Juno stood up abruptly, tossing a few credits next to his empty mug and looking pointedly towards the road leading him.   
“Stay behind me,” he instructed, “I'll try and avoid reflections but don't let your shadow cross me too obviously.”   
“You know I won't,” Nureyev replied, his tone jovial but the relief in it still evident. 

The walk back to Juno’s apartment was a blur. Anxiety writhed in his stomach, creeping up his throat and paralysing every part of him apart from his legs which moved steadily onwards, trudging across the familiar worn cobblestones leading him home. A few people stepped in front of him, holding things to sell but Juno ignored them blankly, staring straight ahead. 

There was no sign of Peter Nureyev, of course there wasn't. The thief was undoubtedly so good at tracking people that no one on the street even dreamed they were walking to the same place. Still, every part of Juno itched to turn and check that Nureyev was still there, that he hadn't drifted away like a wisp of smoke, an intangible fever dream. But, like that old earth tale of the musician Orpheus, Juno had to keep his eyes fixed ahead, praying beyond hope that his loved one was following him out of the Underworld and into safety, but never knowing if they were for certain. Of course, Juno was quite possible leading Nureyev towards the land of the dead, not away. 

After what may have been minutes or may have been hours, Juno reached his apartment, unlocking the several locks he had, scanning for any tampering and checking that the thread he'd placed on the door was still there. It was paranoid, he knew, but the world demanded paranoia. It was only then that he heard faint footsteps behind him. He turned to take off his coat, giving Nureyev time to step into his dingy flat and close the door with a slight click, before Juno turned back to lock the door. 

Once that was done, he moved towards the kitchen, his throat tight. He heard Nureyev follow him but both remained silent. Eventually, Juno gave a short, bitter laugh.   
“I'd offer you a drink,” he said, “But…” he trailed off with a shrug and a gesture towards his face.  
“You don't want whoever said watching to note any inconsistencies,” Nureyev finished for him.   
“Yeah.” Juno smiled wryly. “Help yourself though.” 

They were silent for a long time, too many unsaid words lying between them to build a conversation, before Nureyev spoke again.   
“I think I'm going to need an explanation,” he proposed and Juno laughed bitterly in response.  
“About what? The eye? Hyperion City and the mess it's in? The last time we saw each other?” 

Nureyev’s voice was carefully balanced as he replied but Juno could still sense the pain behind it, the pain that made his gut clench and twist with guilt and regret and a hundred other indescribable emotions. His hands twisted in the dishcloth he had picked up.   
“We have a lot that we probably need to talk about,” Nureyev admitted carefully, “But some things I'd quite like to see your face when I say them. So let's start with the eye. Who’s watching you?”

The questions opened the floodgates for Juno. Every event leading to where he was in the last few months seemed to spill out automatically; his despair, the promises Ramses O’Flaherty had made and the lies he'd told - often the same thing, the things Juno had done for Hyperion’s City new mayor, and the realisations he'd come to too late. And Nureyev listened silently, chair drawn up just behind Juno’s, his presence obvious but distant. 

“I just- I wish I'd let the Proctor shoot him that day at Fortezza, y’know?” he finished lamely, “Or any of the times after that- but that was the first time. I wish I could go back and finish him off then myself.” 

He lapsed into silence, wringing the abused dishcloth in his hands. There was the gentle touch of a hand on his back.   
“Oh, Juno,” Peter Nureyev said and it was astounding how much emotion the man could pour into three syllables, and how his voice made Juno want to curl up into a ball and hold onto the thief and never let go. 

“Don't,” he said, rejecting the unsaid offer of sympathy, “I got myself into this mess.”   
“Don't be ridiculous. You were manipulated by someone more powerful than yourself, someone who knew how to play you. It's never fair and it's never your fault if you mean well. I would know,” Nureyev snapped, his hand fisting in Juno’s jacket.  
“Mag?” Juno guessed, and even turned away as he was, he felt the other man start slightly before relaxing and chuckling darkly.   
“I forgot, you know all about that. Yes, exactly.”  
“Great, I'm as gullible as a naive, trusting teenager.” 

Nureyev sniffed disdainfully before sighing, his hand relaxing and spreading across Juno’s back. Juno leant into the touch ever-so-slightly. 

“I spotted the eye from over in the market,” Nureyev admitted, “but even from that far, I did think you looked bad.”  
“Gee, thanks for the confident boost.”   
“I mean, you look tired.” Juno could picture Nureyev rolling his eyes. “I spent days trapped with you while we were being tortured and you look almost as exhausted as you did then. And you clearly haven't been eating properly. What is Rita doing?”   
“She's not my babysitter.”   
“We both know that's not entirely true. Where is she anyway?”  
“I sent her home. Didn't want Ramses figuring out how good she is with a computer, I don't want him anywhere near her. Don't tell her I said that.”  
“I won't,” Nureyev promised with a smile in his voice, before pausing and saying slowly, “I wish you'd taken my offer of an eye. This could have all been avoided.”

There was more there, being left unsaid. More that Nureyev wished Juno had done or hadn't done, but it wasn't being said right now. Juno got up, feeling Nureyev’s hand slip from his back. He wandered over to the window and stare out over the grotty high rises around him. 

“Well I wasn't quite desperate to enough to need it then,” he said, forcing his tone to sound light, “Hadn't realise how useless I was without it. That's how Ramses operates. He finds all the useless washed up parts of the city, makes them feel useful and then uses them to cement his own power.” 

He paused for a moment and then angrily blurted out, “You know the most stupid part? I stayed in this goddamn city. I gave up everything I wanted for this shithole of a town. I poured every bit of my life into making it better, and every time that's come back to bite me in the ass, but I've gone back out onto the streets and made it slightly better. Just a bit brighter. But really all I've done is made I worse. So much worse and I can't fix what is. Hyperion City would be better off if I just left for good. I'm stuck here, as useless as ever. More so.” 

Nureyev stepped up behind him in one languid movement and grasped his hand, squeezing tightly as he stood behind Juno, staring out at the City with him. 

“Juno, you will never be useless. You are astounding.” Juno closed his eyes and shook his head but Nureyev gently tugged at his arm. “You say it's gullible that you listened to a man who promised a better world, but I think it's beautiful. You still believe that you can make the world a better place, and even when you don't, you try anyway. I lost that strength of conviction a long time ago.”

Juno rolled his eyes but squeezed Nureyev’s hand as he stared out at the Hyperion City skyline which Ramses O’Flaherty had extolled so much in his campaign. The sun had begun to set, turning the sky a molten orange making the red earth look like it was aflame. 

“Sure thing,” Juno replied.   
“I’m serious,” Nureyev told him, “We can figure this out. We’ve been in worse situations. We can get out of this one. And then we can talk face to face.”   
“At least there aren’t any spinning knives this time,” Juno joked. Nureyev laughed quietly.   
“At least there aren't any spinning knives,” he repeated before lapsing into silence, staring out at the burning planet before them.

**Author's Note:**

> What are endings? Who knows. 
> 
> You can find me at [knighting-vale](http://knighting-vale.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come rant about podcasts with me!


End file.
